Smooth Operator
by LynnAgate
Summary: Dark AU. Adult themes. Max, a genetically-engineered Manticore spy, is sent on a special reconnaissance mission to seduce and eliminate a new threat: cyber terrorist Logan Cale. When her mission is compromised, Manticore assigns her a new handler she can't stop thinking about. Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by James Cameron and Charles H. Eglee. For entertainment purposes only.
1. Chapter 1

_Tick-tick-tick._ The sound bugged the hell out of her.

He was always ticking at the keyboard, tapping keys as he entered codes, passwords, encryptions, pecking at them mindlessly as he surfed the informant net looking for an injustices to correct, to shed light on, a criminal to expose.

Max watched him from the doorway, fingering the small disc in the pocket of her leather jacket impatiently. Zack hadn't given her much time to make the copy.

 _Whatever it takes,_ he'd said.

As Logan kept picking at the keys, watching windows open on multiple monitors and jumping between them to compare information, Max eyed him warily. It was this time of night that he started to get really tired, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, yawning a little more; it was the time of night the past and wine created a disgusting concoction in his mouth that made her want to gag when he breathed on her or kissed her; it was this time of night she needed him to be distracted. It'd be difficult, judging by the murderous glare he was giving the screen's occupants.

Sweeping her shoulder-length hair over one shoulder, Max changed the expression on her face. She steeled herself for the performance to come. Affecting what she'd learned long ago was a look called 'bedroom eyes,' she rubbed her cheeks and slunk into the room with the feline grace of the cat she was. After all, it was the biggest DNA donor (other than human) in her genetically-engineered body. "Hey," she greeted sultrily.

"Hey," he said without turning to see her, completed preoccupied by the screens before him.

 _Fuck,_ Max thought, sauntering all the way into the room until she stood behind him. She didn't want to do this tonight, but Zack had said, _whatever it takes._

He no longer hid his screens from her like he used to when they'd first met. He trusted her now. So as she slid her warm palms down his chest, past his ill-toned pecs, he did not minimize his screens.

On them, she could see the atrocities attributed to her militaristic alma mater, Manticore. _Land of the freaks, home of the slaves_ , her unit used to say. That ragtag group of soldiers had helped one another through all kinds of shit: tough assignments, rough training, reindoctrination. And here they were, plastered all over Logan's screens with hundreds of other nameless (to him, anyway) soldiers who'd fought day in and out to help keep this country safe.

He had no idea what his crusade really meant.

Mustering up the courage to do what she needed, Max took a deep breath and pushed the images of her unit mates into a corner in her mind. They went into a box in a drawer in a cabinet, locked and put in a dark corner of a vault. She let one arm dangle further forward, nearing Logan's belly button, as she grazed her plump lips at the side of his neck.

She noticed the change in him right away. He exhaled in a partial groan, his hand sliding up her arm. He pulled her arm down until her hand cupped his growing erection.

How the man could get hard after looking at grotesque photos was beyond her. She chocked it up to how right Manticore was about Logan's type and circled around to place herself between him and his PCs.

Logan reached for her hips and pulled her toward him. Climbing into his lap, Max worked off her jacket quickly and tossed it backward onto his monitors, rushing forward to start a deep, whimpering kiss.

He wasn't bad to look at, really. Light, sandy brown hair, lean facial features and blue eyes. He was alright. No X-Series, but acceptable for an Ordinary. Plus he was tall, which she generally liked in a guy.

Logan's soft-skinned hands crept under her shirt and up her back as he kissed her, his tongue slowly delving into her mouth. She was right – pasta and wine and several hours made for an acrid taste.

She started to wiggle in his lap, grinding a little closer to him, pushing her pelvis against his. He groaned and pushed the hooks of her bra from their clasps.

 _Just pretend he's a male model,_ she coached herself mentally. _He's a gorgeous guy with rippling muscles ready to take you new heights._ Backing off his lap, his hands gently slipping out of her shirt, Max pulled him by his hand until he raised up out of his chair. "Come on," she said in a whisper so quiet he almost didn't hear it.

Max led him to his bedroom, itself decked out in dark, rich colors and yellow-gold dimmed lights. He'd spared no expense in decorating the room. Hand carved armoire, dresser, bed frame, and nightstands were all stained a beautiful dark cherry, and the creams and crushed black of the velvet draperies hung past the windowsills and spilled onto the ground lazily. Everything about this room screamed 'excess.'

She dimmed the lights further and crossed her arms over her chest, reaching down to catch the hem of her shirt and peel it up. No sooner had she pulled the sleeves off and her hair through the neck hole than had he walked up behind her, pressing himself against her ass.

 _Okay, this is new,_ she thought as he flattened his palm at her abdomen and inched his way up her chest. He raised his other hand to move her hair way from her neck, baring her barcode to him.

He'd seen it before – it was nothing new to him. He knew what she was, how she'd been designed. He knew about her previous involvement with Manticore.

Max tried to roll with it, ready to raise both hands to pull her bra off by the straps, but he called out coldly, "Leave it."

Letting her hands fall to her sides, she reached back and cupped his thighs, helping to press him to her more, Zack's words echoing in her mind. _Whatever it takes._

His fingers made quick work of the top button on her button-fly jeans, his hands slipping past the waist of them and into her panties.

 _Pretend, pretend,_ she chanted in her mind. _He's a gorgeous guy who smells amazing, and you're gonna ride him raw if that's what it takes._ She gritted her teeth as his fingers pressed into her, finding her clit and rubbing tiny little circles around it, over it.

She wished he had never discovered her. She wished she'd been assigned to marry a gorgeous fucking scientists like her twin had. She wished she had never excelled at espionage and received such high marks on her solos.

She imagined her last decent lay. X5-843, or Pete, as he'd chosen, now he was good looking. Dark, soft hair, beautiful skin, lean muscles, tall, smart. They fooled around in the library after hours and she'd bounced up and down on him for less than two minutes before she was stifling her orgasmic cries by biting his hand. They'd gone at it for over an hour.

She felt a rush of wetness between her legs.

 _Yes, good image. Keep that. Don't shout out 'Pete.'_

But once Logan found her wetness, he yanked the sides of her jeans down to just above her thighs and held her naked rear end to him by the hip as he pushed at her back.

She bent down, losing her balance and falling to her hands and knees, her knees on the edge of the bed, wondering what would come next. This was new territory for them. They'd had sex before, but this had never been part of Logan's bland foreplay. It'd always been kissing and light petting until Max went for the condom. Not this time.

This time, she heard him get the condom out and felt him letting his pants drop to his ankles. She heard the package crumple and peeked over her shoulder to make sure he was putting it on. He was still standing, his erection sticking out toward her like a little pink sausage. He was average. Pete was longer. And thicker.

When he saw her face, he ground his teeth and rolled the latex on the rest of the way. The look in his eyes… it was haunting. It was as if he was after something else. She couldn't quite place it. Was he mad about something? What he'd seen of her Manticore comrades?

It was rough and quick when he entered her. She clamped her jaw shut, tight, as he bent over her back to slip a hand around to her right breast. He squeezed painfully as he pumped into her and she let out the moan she'd crafted specifically for this mission – one meant to urge Logan Cale to completion. It'd worked in the past, and it'd worked for this one.

She heard his grouse, "like that, huh?"

No, she didn't like this. She turned her head to glance at him, but it proved to be a bad move.

Logan's hand left her breast to hold her hip as his other hand moved to her neck, pushing her down so her face smashed into the bed. Hastily, roughly, he cleared the hair from the base of her neck.

 _Fucking Christ_ , she thought with a start. _My fucking barcode._

"Come on, baby," he grunted. "Come for me."

Hey may as well have been talking to himself.

She hated this. The sex. The position. The talk. The look he had in his eyes was so possessive, like she was an object, like she was his object.

 _Pretend,_ she reminded herself. If she didn't start making noises soon, he'd keep talking and this little encounter would last for-goddamn-ever. Resigned, Max began the performance.

 _Moan lightly, like he's reaching a spot he'd never be able to reach without someone else's dick. Huff breathily a couple of times, and then kick up the moan an octave. More heavy breathing. Grab the sheets like he's rocking your fucking world. Use your muscles and scream his name._ "Oh, Logan!"

It was exactly what he needed. His hand at her neck squeezed hard, painfully, as he came with an effeminate grunt, thrusting exactly four times.

For just a few seconds while he squeezed, Max thought of the eight most practical ways she could kill him from this position.

Logan pulled out and grabbed the waist of his pants before heading to the bathroom. When he shut the door behind him, Max finally moved from her position.

Flattening onto the bed, she laid there motionless, ruefully remembering the day she received this goddamn assignment.


	2. Chapter 2

6 Months Ago

X5-452, the Manticore soldier known as "Max," stood at ease in Director Lydecker's office, awaiting further information.

"Do you know why I've asked to see you, soldier?"

"No, sir," Max answered.

She did have an inkling though. She'd been on a couple of serious solos since her sixteenth year – missions in which the Director requested a special meeting with her. Eight missions over four years ranging from deep cover assassination to a special deep-cover reconnaissance.

Director Lydecker furrowed his brow. Once upon a time, he had been very blonde – she'd seen the pictures. Now, his white and gray eyebrows matched the rest of his hair, but his icy blue eyes pierced her sharply like they always had. "You've been selected for a deep-cover recon mission to culminate in the elimination of the target."

Max nodded, waiting for more information, as was customary for standard protocol.

"The target is an upper level cyber terrorist masquerading as a WASPy vigilante. His name is Logan Cale and he poses a threat to this institution. Our sources indicate he's accumulating information on us, presumably to wage an attack.

"He has his fingers in various pies, including the genetics game, and we suspect he's planning something huge. We need your special set of skills."

A knock came at the door.

"Enter," Lydecker said.

X5-599, the blonde-haired, square-jawed and broad-shouldered unit leader walked in and stood at attention next to Max, who had also snapped to attention.

Lydecker saluted him back. "At ease."

Both soldiers fell into relaxed positions.

"Max, Zack will be your handler for this mission."

Zack turned to face Max. "Your results speak for themselves, Max. Are you ready to do whatever it takes?"

"Yes, sir."

Operations put together quite the cover ID for Max. She was basically who she already was: an intelligent Manticore soldier, genetically-engineered human-hybrid, just with some embellishments. Now she was a fugitive on the run from the same institution that had trained her, molded her, raised her.

She would have and inherent mistrust of authority, a difficulty with father figures, a sharp, sarcastic wit to prove a coping mechanism. And she was to use sex, when applicable, as one of her means of deception. Cale needed someone idealistic who could get involved in his missions, and she would have to find a way to stall his plans until Manticore decided how to handle him.

Zack and Lydecker briefed Max on everything Cale already knew about Manticore, and informed her what they'd purposely leaked about her.

Part of her cover ID would be to work as a Jam Pony bike messenger. She'd be working under a friendly called "Normal," a sort of nerdy republican patriot with – as Max would soon discover – low patience.

"Your mission is to get close to Logan Cale. Infiltrate and sabotage his network, and when the time comes, eliminate him," Zack instructed. He looked her in the eyes. "Do you understand your mission?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Now

Max heard the toilet flush and hurriedly turned onto her back, pulling her underwear and pants up. She buttoned them, stood up, and reclasped her bra while the faucet ran in the bathroom. She crossed the room, moving toward the window, grabbed her shirt and pulled it on just as the bathroom door opened to reveal a sleepy Logan, wearing just an undershirt and a pair of boxer briefs.

His demeanor had changed from the sexually-aggressive and somewhat violent behavior to his normal dull, more passive personality. His eyes attempted a kindness she knew he convinced himself would be apology enough for what had just happened, but she would not accept it today.

She pulled her hair through the neck hole and bent to adjust her pant legs.

Logan found his way to the bed and slipped under the covers, watching her back move under the material of her shirt as she straightened her pant legs. "Won't you stay?" he asked hesitantly.

"'Can't. Gotta bounce. Kendra needs me." She stood up and faced him, her somewhat cold expression fixing him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"'Kay," he said, unaware of whether or not she accepted his not-quite-an-apology. "Goodnight."

Max walked briskly out of his bedroom, letting the door swing almost shut. She mentally prayed she'd distracted him long enough for the disc in her jacket pocket to do its job. She passed through his office and snatched her jacket from the monitors, slipping it on in a hurry to get the fuck out of his penthouse.

She made it to the Space Needle in record time and hauled ass up the stairs to meet a very impatient-looking Zack.

"Did you get it?" he barked as her foot hit the smooth metal of the 'ground.'

She gritted her teeth, glaring at him. "Do you know what I had to go through tonight? That man is such a terrible fucking lay! Sex with him is like not winning the lottery. You invest all this money, and time and effort, and your number is never called."

Zack pursed his lips. "Yeah, but did you get it?" he repeated emotionlessly. His utter detachment was unnerving to her.

Stuffing her hand in her pocket, Max fingered the disc and pulled it out. "Yeah, I got it," she said caustically, pushing the disc into Zack's palm.

He looked down triumphantly at the small disc. "Good." He tapped it against his other hand. "This'll give the director the intel we need to make the right countermeasure."

"Perfect," she sassed back.

"What's the next mission?"

Max stared over the city, distantly hoping the end of this assignment was seriously fucking nigh. "Supposed to grab this hard drive from EQ8 Technologies tomorrow night."

"Perfect," he echoed, but without her same sentiment. "I'll shadow you, copy it, and then you can give it to Cale." Zack pocketed the disc and looked out in the same direction as Max.

Max nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

Max sulked all the way up to her floor and through the door to the apartment she shared with her roommate, Kendra.

She hadn't required a roommate as part of mission parameters, but she had posited that it might draw less attention if she had friends. She'd found a posting at Jam Pony for roommate needed and figured a nice, normal roommate was in order.

But of course, life was unpredictable and gave her a busty platinum blonde with an effervescent personality and insatiable libido. Kendra constantly brought men home. She loved men, and men loved her. Max kind of admired Kendra's carefree attitude, since she herself didn't have the luxury of falling in love. She was a soldier.

Kendra was spooning ice cream into a bowl when she heard Max open the door. She looked up to Max's sullen face, smiling. "Hey, stranger," she began.

Max's grin grew quickly, ready for another of Kendra's stories. "Hey," she greeted back, eying the ice cream. Looked like Rocky Road. It wasn't her favorite, but who could begrudge a little cold, sweet comfort? "Got a bite for me?"

Kendra nodded, grabbing a second bowl from the cupboard, and dug into the tub. "Where were you today? This totally gorgeous Swede brought his son in for lessons and paid with coffee and mint leaves."

As the blond pushed ice cream off the spoon into the bowl, Max slipped her jacket off and hung it on the chair back. "Blue eyes?"

Kendra smiled knowingly.

"Did you tell him you accept other forms of payment?" Max joked, sitting at the kitchen island.

Kendra pushed the bowl to Max. She'd offered Japanese language lessons for children for over a year and understood the struggles of the modern family in the broken world, often bartering instead of asking for cash specifically. It's how she acquired various hard-to-get items like toothpaste, coffee and gas.

"Very funny. Just saying mint leaves are rare, plus, he stayed after a few minutes to tell me how hard it is being a single father these days."

Eyes widening in mirth, Max's lips split in a suggestive smile. "Oh, he's totally hitting on you. Did you invite him over for a mocha-jito? Little coffee, little mint, little bit of extra payment?"

Kendra nearly threw the spoon at Max. "Hey, I'm not a slut."

"You know what they say… if the fuzzy handcuffs fit..."

* * *

EQ8 Technologies, 2:38 AM

Max waited impatiently for the hard drive to finish copying onto Zack's clean one. "Can't this thing go any faster?" she asked.

Zack's lips formed a thin line. "You're being irrational."

"You're being robotic," she countered, not bothering to reign in the more acerbically human aspects of her personality.

He gave her a scornful tilt of the head, but didn't speak. When the drive finally finished, he disconnected the cable and handed the original drive to Max, whom shoved the drive into a black sack. "I'll wait ten minutes for you to exfil."

"Won't take me more than five."

"Still. I don't want to compromise you."

"Any more than I've already had to, anyway."

He grit his teeth nearly imperceptibly, save for the bulges of his jaw. "Your sarcasm is unnecessary, soldier. Also, that's not the point."

"Have I ever been off my mission parameters? Ever?"

"No." Zack put his copy of the drive into a briefcase made specifically for it, refusing to look at her.

"So what makes you think I'm gonna start now?"

Fed up, Zack clasped the case shut. "You are nearing insubordination, soldier. Are you prepared to take it further?"

 _Get your shit together,_ she self-talked. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." She fucking hated when he pulled rank on her. Hated it.

"Meet you at the rendezvous point in one hour," he barked.

Max nodded curtly and took off toward the exit. She reached Logan's car in four minutes and thirty-nine seconds, feeling superior satisfaction that Zack could eat his words later. Flinging the passenger's side door open, she climbed in, settling the sack on the floorboard between her feet.

Logan smiled triumphantly at their acquisition, put the car in gear, and pulled a squarish plastic box from his jacket pocket. A box with one red button top center. Max had no doubts in her mind for what this box had been designed.

She looked back at the building, trying to school her features. She hoped Zack had already made it out of the building. He could have gone out the opposite side of the building for all she cared – he just _had_ to have made it out already.

"Now for the last part of the mission," Logan said.

 _Stall. Stall like you've never fucking stalled before,_ she screamed mentally. Turning back to Logan, Max looked at the detonator. "Wait, what's that?"

He took a small breath. "You don't need me to explain it to you, Max. It's the last part of the mission."

"You never told me about this," she reasoned. Mission parameters were to get the drive and get the hell out. And she'd done that.

Logan looked into her eyes. "I couldn't," he started. "I've been thinking I might have a mole. For a couple of weeks now."

Worried he would push the button, Max's features moved from worried to infuriated. Inciting a fight might distract him long enough for Zack to get out. "And you thought it was me?"

His brows turned up defensively, as if he was truly sorry, but the look on his face conveyed otherwise. "I'm sorry, but I needed to rule you out. What I do… what we do… it's very sensitive."

His whole stupid fucking face made her sick. "I can't believe this."

Logan's thumb hovered over the button.

"Why do we have to blow the building?"

"Just in case," he said heartlessly, and depressed the button.

She snapped back to the building as the explosion rocked the ground. The windows shattered outward, followed by plumes of flames. She felt the tears building, the realization hitting that Zack worked only by the book – followed orders to a 'T,' and he would never adjust the operation unless he saw that his life was in imminent danger. And he would have had to see it with his own two eyes. She'd stalled Logan for only two minutes. It wasn't enough time.

She sniffed quietly, just once. Sliding her emotions into a neat little box, a box already filled with the guilty shreds of her humanity and regretted inactions, and pushed that box under the current of her façade.


	4. Chapter 4

5 months ago

A loud knock came at Max's apartment door. Thankfully, Kendra wasn't home, there was no doubt in her mind she'd naturally gravitate toward Zack's statuesque, yet surfer-like exterior. She liked them blonde and hard, and that was exactly what Soldier Zack was. Max let him in.

He rushed in, passing her with an odd glance at her wardrobe.

"What? It's nearly 2 a.m.," she defended, looking down at her black tank top and kitten-printed pajama pants.

He shook his head. "Get dressed. Something's going on right now – it's our opening."

Max hurried to her room, leaving the door scantly ajar as she changed into her black jeans. She pulled her black zip sweater over her head and shoved her feet into her boots.

"Tie 'em on the way, let's go," he instructed.

Max followed him out to his truck and they sped to the locale at which she'd find Mr. Logan Cale.

"Make sure you make an impression," Zack said. "Our intel on this guy suggests he's pretty thick, so give him a reason to seek you out."

Max nodded, one boot pulled up to the seat as she made quick work of the laces.

"He thinks he's a vigilante, but he's in over his head."

The truck pulled up to the harbor.

"Where do I meet you?" Max asked.

"Call me as soon as you're free. Let me know if you get anything."

"Of course." Max hopped out of the truck and headed toward the docks.

The action-packed part of the night was quick. Her mark was about to become someone else's bullet magnet. She noticed the gun a full minute before Logan had turned around. Quickly, Max incapacitated the shooter, who'd clearly been twice her size. She feigned surprise, as if she hadn't meant for Logan to see her do that, and spun to 'inadvertently' show him her barcode and 'accidentally' drop her Jam Pony Sector Pass. That way, if he didn't return it to her, she could see him again under the pretense of getting that pass back.

"Hey!" He shouted after her, but she'd blurred into the darkness and headed home.

The next day, Logan Cale was already at her place of employment when she arrived, rain slicking off her coat and hat in a flurry of droplets.

"Hey!" called Normal, stepping out from behind the dispatch station. "Watch where you're flinging that!"

Max huffed, using her fingers to brush water off of her sleeve, not caring where it landed. "It's raining cats and dogs out there," she retorted.

She saw Logan out of the corner of her eye and intentionally ignored him.

"Doesn't mean you can shake out your fur in here like one," Normal said, meeting her defiant stare. "Bringing in the street filth…"

Max took her cap off and shook it toward Normal's very dry feet, rainwater sluicing off of it. "Won't happen again, boss." She could almost hear Logan's smirk.

"See that it doesn't." Normal gestured behind Max. "You got a visitor. Been asking for you for a half hour, but as I told him," he paused, looking at Logan, "Missy Miss has got a piss-poor work ethic and I'd be lucky if she came back at all."

Max whipped her head toward Logan and her eyes grew wide.

"Make it quick," Normal said.

She approached him with a false look of worry plastered to her face. Had to. A man like Cale had to always feel like he had the upper hand, the superiority – financial, career, moral, all types.

Logan put both expensively-gloved hands out in a gesture suggesting no harm.

"How'd you find me?" she asked, keeping her distance.

He fumbled around in his long beige coat and produced her sector pass from his pocket.

 _Like a charm,_ she thought of the improvised plan. "You found my sector pass," she probed, purposely angrily.

His brows turned up in confusion. Probably figured she'd be grateful.

Max reached out for the pass, and Logan snatched it out of her reach, an amused half-smile hitching up his lips.

"Home girl, is this tall piece of upper end crust botherin' you?" Max's coworker, a dark-skinned beauty who'd introduced herself as Original Cindy, asked from across the room.

Max and Original Cindy made fast friends the day Max started at Jam Pony. Her dark hair fell lightly in tight corkscrew curls, carefully controlled (except on days like today when humidity had an influence), and her stylish way of communicating screamed out that she was different – colorful, creative and fun.

Logan was again taken aback and distracted as he considered Original Cindy's intended barb, giving Max ample time to grab her pass.

"Stalker much?" Original Cindy added.

"I got this," Max assured her. Original Cindy sauntered to her locker and Max turned back to Logan. "Thanks for brining my pass. Hard to go about Sectors without it," she baited him.

"Hard? Don't you mean 'impossible'?"

She feigned accidental slip of the tongue. "Yeah."

He eyed her a moment – a moment in which Max refused to back down under his scrutiny. He traced a path from her eyes to the outline of her plump lips, then started to let his eyes wander down further.

"I don't have any money for a reward," she prodded again. _Appeal to his sense of being privileged, hell, over-privileged. Make yourself a cause, a victim to rescue._

He looked up and moved his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. "No, that's not what –" he paused, then calmly said, "Have lunch with me."

Max changed her expression from unyielding to coy surprise. She managed an embarrassed chuckle. "Um, thanks for the offer, but I got plans." She nodded to Original Cindy.

"Oh." He looked down and back up, hope in his blue eyes. "Tomorrow, then?"

Max smiled flirtatiously and shook her head. "I don't go out with guys whose first names I don't even know."

As if only just occurring to him, Logan's brows shot up. "Logan Cale," he announced, removing his glove and sticking his hand out.

Max reached out her still-gloved hand to his and shook it firmly and quickly. "Max Guevara. But you knew that from my Sector Pass."

He gave her an easy smile and released her hand. "Now that you know my name, how about that lunch?"

Max pretend-considered it. She already had plans to meet up with Zack to go over the mission progress. "I'm sorry, I already have plans."

He looked disappointed, and she could see him working out that maybe he was getting the brush-off. The look in his eyes shifted to something cold, icy. "Well, then, maybe you can help me out with something. It requires your special set of skills."

"What? Delivering packages?"

He gave a placating smile. "I meant your other, more specialized, skills."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said with a flair of impatience and anger. She began to turn, but Logan caught her by the elbow, turned her toward him, and spoke lowly.

"You saved my life last night." His lips thinned into a firm line while he considered his next words. "I really need your help. Unless you want to explain to your boss, there, what you really are."

 _Blackmail already? Geez, must be desperate._ "Oh yeah? And what's that?" she pushed out through gritted teeth. Time to see if he took the bait, if he did his research, if the mission was on track.

"A genetics experiment gone wrong."


	5. Chapter 5

Now

As he maneuvered the car through the slick and grungy streets of Seattle, Logan kept his eyes mostly on the road, and went about their conversation as if he hadn't just blown up a building, and her CO with it.

"…Pasta tricolore, with a nice pre-pulse merlot…" he said, and Max paled in her seat, sick to her stomach over the events of the night. Pasta tricolore was a dish he equated with romance, which meant he likely wanted to celebrate the night's victory, getting himself off with her genetically-enhanced body.

But the thought of touching his extremities tonight filled Max with a quiet homicidal rage, no matter how Zack's adherence to 'whatever it takes' played through her mind. She wasn't even sure if the mission could continue without Zack.

"…glad we didn't have a mole," Logan continued, reaching over the center console, in which sat the nonchalantly discarded detonator, for her hand. He squeezed it and looked over to her. "Really glad." He smiled sweetly. Sickeningly.

She schooled her features and forced out, "and if there was, like you said, they're dead now."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"So you want Merlot or Chianti tonight?"

Max bit the inside of her cheek. "Actually, I'm feeling kinda punk. Can we raincheck?"

"You okay?"

"Just tired – you know I haven't been sleeping the past few nights." _Lie._ She barely slept at all. An hour or two a night, sometimes more if she'd been very active. "Think you can drop me off at home?"

"Sure."

Less than fifteen minutes later, Logan pulled up next to her apartment building. "I'll call you tomorrow. Feel better." He leaned over and kissed her.

* * *

3 months ago

In his car, in the rain, right outside her apartment, and right after a mission gone horribly right (to her dismay, because it meant some criminals had been apprehended, but at the expense of innocent people Logan deemed 'collateral damage'), Logan had stared at her, lips slightly parted, and she knew he was going to kiss her. Tried to prepare herself mentally for it, even. But it had been awkward.

Yes, she'd been a great actor that night, letting him set the pace, mirroring his technique; but it was still awkward. His lips misfit hers, and were dry. He tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, which her whole body wanted to reject, but she opened her mouth anyway. The man was not a great kisser.

"I'll see you later," she'd blurted out, panicked, and exited the car to race up to the safety of her apartment building.

Logan took off after Max had crossed the street, and just as he turned off her street, Max turned the other direction to go meet Zack atop the Space Needle.

They'd made huge strides in the past couple of months, and everything was going to plan. Until Max complained about the kiss.

"It was like explaining a calculus problem against a gaping fish mouth. And besides that, he doesn't care who gets hurt in his crusade for justice. He's insufferable!"

Zack let her vent for exactly one minute before shoving her right back into place. "Max, listen to me very carefully. You will go to his place. Tonight. And you will make it count. Everything we are working for is riding on this. If you don't do whatever it takes, we're going to lose him, and we can't afford to lose him. We need more intel before we eradicate him. The Director thinks there are some other players." He paused, putting both hands on her shoulders. "So you go back there, and imagine. Pretend he's your boyfriend, or your husband. I don't care how – just make him believe. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Max replied.

And she did make it count. She raced across town to his penthouse, let herself in, and put on an exasperated show.

"I was confused before," she began, crossing the distance between them. "But I'm not confused anymore." She pressed her lips to his, imagining full lips where his were lacking, imagining a minty fresh taste where his was tinged with wine, imagining a strong sexy man as she laced her fingers in his hair and pulled him against her.

It worked.

* * *

Now

Max jumped out of his car and waited for him to begin driving before crossing the street. Everything was FUBAR. Zack was dead, she was sure of it – felt it in her bones. But just to verify, she pulled her cell phone out and dialed his number. If it rang, then he was alive. If not…

She had the answer the second the call didn't go through.

She dialed another number, heard the voice on the other line indicate 'wrong number,' waited for the beep, and punched in the code signifying distress.

An unmarked black van arrived a few minutes later, and several men in black clothes and black masks muscled her into the van, absconding into the night.

The debriefing and testing processes were fairly quick, even given how long she was under, everything she'd done, and what had happened to Zack.

Director Lydecker informed her that the 'video footage' of what Logan determined was her 'recapture' had been uploaded to Cale's informant net the same night of her exfil, that he had found the footage two days later, and that their sources indicate her recapture seemed to have lit a proverbial fire under his ass about Manticore. Cale now 'has a hard-on for Manticore's destruction,' but that right now, the only thing keeping him from acting on it was the idea that Max was somehow still alive.

Max wanted to apologize for aborting the mission, but what was she supposed to do with no handler?

Lydecker levelled her with a protective stare. "You followed protocol, soldier. You did exactly what was expected. Knowing Cale is still targeting us, I have to ask. Do you think your cover was blown? Is the mission salvageable?"

"No, sir. Cale believes I was recaptured. If he thought I was dead, there'd already be a fire at our door." Max chose her words carefully as she thought about going back under – going back to this monstrosity of a man. Did she really want to go back? What was she willing to sacrifice for her country?

"And what of the mission?" Lydecker asked. He was human, and he understood the psychology of what he was asking of his soldiers. He was giving her an out if she wanted to take it. That was not something any of her unit mates, or any of the other troops for that matter, saw very often. She appreciated his concern.

She straightened up. "The mission is salvageable, sir." _But I want to be the one to kill him,_ she added mentally, her eyes narrowing at the thought.

The director nodded resolutely. "There is a soldier returning from a solo. The Accelerator – he's very good. I want him on this with you."

"Yes, sir."

"We'll get this mission back on track in a couple of weeks. For now, you are dismissed."

"Sir." Max left his office.


	6. Chapter 6

Most of her former unit were on their own solos, so as Max fell back into the routine of training, she befriended a couple of X-Series she saw on a daily basis. X5-992, or Brandy, as she'd chosen, was another soldier designed predominantly for Nova assignments – or at least that's what her unit had coined the program. Nova, or Casanova, had soldiers getting high profile targets to fall in love with them and give them information. Brandy's last assignment had been completed a month ago. The man she'd been tasked to have fall in love with her, coincidentally, was the CEO of EQ8 Technologies. Brandy had killed him only a few days prior to Cale's detonation of the building. It was a small world, after all, Max thought.

Brandy reminded her of Kendra. Platinum blonde hair, busty, but differed in that she truly had a taste for women. So _unlike_ Kendra. She was a little taller than Max and had a little cluster of freckles on one cheekbone that gave her a girl-next-door kind of presence. She liked Brandy. Of course, Brandy had openly asked her when they first met if she was a tongue-twister. It'd taken Max the better part of a minute to figure out what that meant, and she shook her head. "Unless my mission parameters require," she'd amended.

"Too bad," Brandy replied, tossing long tendrils over her shoulder. "I know all kinds of rhymes."

It was an utter shame that Brandy was back at base, because that CEO had knocked her up before she eliminated him. She'd told Max that once she found out about the pregnancy, she fast-tracked the mission. She couldn't stay and have the baby – she needed to get back and have the whole thing be 'over with.'

Frowning, Max realized with a jolt that she had been lucky. Not all marks would have practiced safe sex, so she was glad she and Cale had. Their birth control shots only lasted three months, and she had been under for six. Brandy had been under for longer, and because of the nature of her mission, had even less contact with her handler. She shook her head in disgust at what Brandy had to go through.

She and Brandy usually did their morning calisthenics together before they separated for class. That was the thing about Manticore – they wanted to keep teaching their soldiers, keep them cultured so they could assimilate easily, keep them constantly striving to be smarter, better. So while Brandy went off to Psychology for Type A Personalities, Max went to Modern Physics in Post-Pulse America.

Every day before Mess, Max would meet some of the other troops outside in the Commons, training grounds for physical activities, or at the Quad, their indoor gym, to spar with some of her classmates.

At the end of her second week back, a new face popped up at the Commons. He was about six foot tall, dirty blonde hair over hazel eyes and very strong build. His skin was bronzed as if he'd been mostly in the sun the past year, and when he smiled a lopsided smirk at his opponent, Max felt her mouth water. The sight of him, standing in the center of a ring of soldiers, shirtless with fists up, ready for action, excited her blood, made her anxious. Like a boxer, he danced around his opponent, X5-888, "West," a dark haired Nova soldier a little taller and paler than the blonde.

"Who's that?" Max had asked Brandy, catching sight of his barcode. X5-494. Something about him niggled at her memory. Had she seen him before?

Brandy looked to her friend, noting the way her pupils dilated a bit. "Your future baby daddy," Brandy joked. But she may as well have been talking to herself, because Max was transfixed.

She couldn't help but stare at him. He was gorgeous, and she couldn't tear her eyes away. She watched the sparring session as they traded blows and tried to outmaneuver one another. West had not been doing very well. The other soldier had taken him to the mats three times before he kicked up, irritated.

"What?"

"Alec," West said, shaking his head, hands thrown up in the air.

Again, Max wondered if she had met him before. Had she run into him out on a mission? Did their solos cross somewhere?

"What?" the blonde soldier asked, jerking his head back as if to suggest this was not the first time he and West had a disagreement.

West eyed Max and Brandy for a moment, a flash of anger in his eyes. He turned his glare back to 494. "I'm out, man."

"Why? Afraid of getting beat for the thousandth time?" came 494's cocky response.

West brusquely exited the ring and pushed past Max on the right, almost bumping into her.

"What the hell is his problem?" Brandy asked, echoing Max's thoughts.

The golden soldier looked around the circle of comrades, muscles twitching under his skin to keep the fight going, and utterly delicious lips turning downward at the loss of opponent. "Anybody else want to give their ol' buddy Alec a run for his money?" he asked. He turned, meeting the eyes of a few of the soldiers, mostly men. Each shook their heads. For a brief second, he caught Max's eyes, did the fastest double-take she'd ever seen, then dismissively passed her up.

 _Oh, hell no._ Max's heart beat quicker as she narrowed her eyes.

Brandy took a step back from her, realizing what had just happened. If there was one thing Max hated, it was that people who didn't know her constantly underestimated her.

Max untucked and tore off her shirt, and then muscled her way through the circle and into the makeshift 'ring.'

He had his back to her, and once he realized the other soldiers were staring at someone behind him, he turned, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and gave her an appreciative once-over. "452," he said, eyebrows tilting up.

Like he was surprised she was standing in the middle of the ring, ready to throw down, which made her grind her teeth more.

He did recognize her. By her face, no less, not even her barcode. Max pushed her hair behind her shoulders and brought her fists up. "My name's Max."

As he brought his fists up only halfway, Max saw the way his biceps bunched halfway up his upper arm, and his abs compressed into rows of perfection. She wondered absentmindedly if he was a Nova, too.

They began dancing around one another, each trying to figure out the other's strategy. Who would make the first move? A hush fell over their crowd as the two soldiers circled each other, staring.

Max made the first move, twitching forward with a right cross. Her target had been his nose, but he tilted his chin away from her and she nicked his jaw instead.

"First one's free," he said, the crowd of soldiers chuckling at his challenge. He dropped to one foot and swept his other leg around.

Max jumped to avoid tripping on that leg and falling onto her back, but wasn't prepared for the second sweep which immediately followed. She caught herself in a crabwalk position and propelled herself back up onto her feet.

"Not bad," Alec said, resetting his fists between them. Max mirrored his movement and waited for his next move. "Not as good as me, but not bad."

"Do you always run your mouth, or are there times when that jaw stops wagging?"

Their audience groaned in surprise at her insult, whereas Alec tilted his chin up diagonally to consider her words. It almost looked like genuine mirth in his eyes. His lips twitched and his eyes darkened. "There are other things this mouth can do," he said.

A shiver coursed through her body at the slight change in ambience, and she blushed as his innuendo hit her, which was distraction enough for him to land a quick jab to her torso. He followed it with a left cross, down from which she easily ducked, sweeping her leg around to catch his.

He started to fall back but caught his balance, standing fully upright in time to catch her leg when she moved to kick him. He took her right to the mat, one leg between hers, pressing her down with his weight. He thought she did this on purpose; she allowed him to take her down.

Raising a single, slender eyebrow, Max exhaled, exasperated. It wasn't even the sparring that winded her – it was him. Alec. Even all sweaty, there was a scent about him that appealed to her. And like a cat, she wanted to rub her face all over it.

He was busy thinking behind those faded freckles, and seemed to lean in a little before deciding against it and backing off of her. He reached a hand down to help her up. "Fight's over," he called out to the crowd.

It was time to hit Mess for half of the soldiers, and as they dispersed, Alec bent to pick up his shirt. He watched her warily for a moment. Brandy handed the brunette her shirt and mumbled something about catching her at Mess, leaving the two soldiers relatively alone.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Alec asked.

"Did we meet somewhere?" Max asked, searching her memory for his face. Maybe they hadn't met on crossed solos. Maybe they'd med here, just not recently. "Or some _when_?"

He smiled, and god, did she want him to keep smiling. At her. And was that a hint of a bashful blush crawling up his chest?

"What?"

He broke their gaze for a moment and pulled his shirt on, a reminiscent smile overtaking the previous one. "You kinda… named me."

At this admission, the memory finally caught up with her. "Smart-aleck."

He smirked that lopsided one that made her knees weak. "Nice to see you again, Max." He started to walk away, but threw a glance over his shoulder. "By the way, I'm your new handler."


	7. Chapter 7

Now

Two more weeks on base and training under Alec was quasi-torture for Max. Not actual torture, and not actually _under_ Alec, she mused, but, seemed he was prone to shirts and skins when it came to training, and he was often 'skin.' A few days in the middle of a heat wave had tiny little beads of sweat making glistening paths all over his skin, between his abdominals, and dipping down into his cargos by way of each leg of the V those muscles formed. She wasn't sure how long she could last if they kept this up.

It had been a full month since she'd placed that distress call. A full month away from Cale. Only a couple of weeks training alongside her new handler. A couple weeks' full of Max complaining and gossiping to Brandy about her new handler. So much so, that Brandy had finally told her that if she wanted it, she only needed to go get it. Alec was human, well, part-human after all, and even hybrids had needs, too. Max saw him across the hall, watched him forlornly, realizing that Manticore frowned upon intermingling.

Pete hadn't been her handler, and she wasn't sure how Alec perceived the 'rules' and whether or not he'd be willing to bend them if she was willing to bend them. Which was essentially what she and Brandy were discussing when they noticed Alec approaching.

"Max, come with me," he instructed, walking brusquely past the brunette X5 and her friend. "Briefing with the Director."

Max shot a quick glance to Brandy and fell in step next to her handler as they made their way to Director Lydecker's office. "What's up?"

"Got an update on the Cale mission," he answered, sneaking a sidelong glance at her to gauge her reaction. She tried to make her features nonchalant, but he saw the twinge of sadness in her eyes before she compartmentalized it, and then he saw nothing at all.

The Director's door was open, and when he saw them, he waved them in and motioned for Max to shut the door. She and Alec saluted him, which he returned before telling them, "take a seat."

The two chairs opposite his desk weren't all that comfortable; they were practical. Lydecker tapped a blue folder against his desk top. "There's been some movement on the Cale mission. We've had our IT units shadowing his network, and it appears as though he's looking for Manticore's home base.

Max looked to Alec, fearing Lydecker was about to have her reengage with the target. She wasn't sure she was ready for that, but if it meant defending her country…

Alec kept his face forward. "Are we going back in, Sir?"

His eyebrows twitched as he looked down. "Not yet. Right now, we have a contingent of troops setting up a dummy location, and IT is creating an infrastructure to leak to his informant net. We still have a few months until you go back under, but we do need a way to release you and still maintain your cover."

Alec spoke up first. "Seems the easiest plan would be for her to escape. Classic underdog – escape your captors."

The Director nodded, looking over to Max.

"But when I do it, I gotta go straight to him. Gives him the 'us against them' mentality if it looks like I'll rely only on him."

"Agreed," the older man said.

Max fidgeted a moment. "And leave me in my camos. I'll definitely look the part."

"Good idea," Alec said.

"One thing," interjected Lydecker. "We need to get Alec in. He's our accelerator – he'll fast track this mission, but he's gotta get tight with Cale, too."

Max pursed her lips. "Cale's not gonna let him in. When I aborted, he'd already suspected a mole. He's very untrusting, and no offense to my CO, but not even Alec could switch him."

The X5 in question snapped his head to her. "Switch him?"

"To play for the other team," she clarified.

He nodded, accepting her word and moving to the next possibility. "Would he take _your_ word for it?" The blonde soldier asked. "Can you vouch for me?"

Again, Max bit her lip. "Maybe. Might be questionable if I suddenly show up with a 'Nova saying I trust him and he's from the same place and is just as disenfranchised as I am."

Alec chuckled at her comment and looked down, noting Lydecker's barely reigned-in smile, too. "Okay, I'll figure something out. Just give me a couple of days."

The air in the room shifted as the topic changed.

"Now that that's done, I'll let Alec fill you in on the next couple of missions, since you've been cleared for active duty." Lydecker passed the folder to Alec. "Dismissed."

"Sir," Max and Alec said in unison, leaving his office.

Out in the hallway, Alec perused the file he'd seen once before, and handed it to Max. "We've got a gig over in Tacoma. Big wig investors holding a gala for a foreign weapons outfit. They have a contact meeting them at the gala, and they're handing off a hard drive. We need to intercept it."

Max nodded, quickly reading snippets of the file. She looked up to him at the realization. "I'm your plus one?"

He smiled, and goddamn it was beautiful. "Yeah." He stared at her growing smile and cleared his throat. "You need to retrieve that drive. They've seen my face before – I'm already under with them, so I can't get it."

"When do we go?"

"Tomorrow night. Gotta get you in to wardrobe, 'cause it's formal." The hopeful glint in his eyes made Max feel as if her stomach were filled with fluttering butterflies. Did he want to see her in a stunning gown, one that maybe showed a tasteful amount of skin?

Max nodded and handed the folder back to him. A formal event, and she'd be going with the most handsome handler Manticore had ever created. She wondered what god she appeased in a past life to receive such a generous gift. Max smiled, thinking about the extravagant, low cut red dress they'd likely put her in to distract all of the guards. In her experience, the more cleavage she showed, the fewer questions they asked.

"See you tomorrow, Max," he interrupted her thoughts, before turning and leaving her in the hallway.

 _Well._ _Short and to the point._


	8. Chapter 8

Now

Wardrobe decked her out in a sparkling gray strapless dress with an asymmetrical hem and a sweetheart neckline for Max's attire for the night. The way the embellishments on the dress gleamed made it seem like the dress was pure silver, especially when she swayed or moved. Her heels perfectly matched the dress, of course, and they'd done her make up so well that she actually felt sophisticated, put together. They left her hair down in soft waves and gave her small platinum hoop earrings with diamonds positioned in the front, as well as a diamond bracelet, to accessorize and enhance her outfit. She hoped Alec liked it – even though he'd had numerous missions like this before, she wanted to make his mouth drop open and his eyes darken. Call it a kind of pride.

Fraternizing amongst the soldiers was strictly forbidden, but there was still the occasional hook-up, like Max and Pete's shared time in the library, or every once in a while, the rare Mating. She'd heard about the explosive sex and the eternal commitment Mating ensured. Sounded nice. Sounded like belonging.

She wasn't naïve enough to think she could fall in love, though. Soldiers didn't have the luxury. But she wouldn't have been against a hook-up, per se, like she'd had with Pete. Like she'd had once with X5-336, Nick. He had an average dick, but that wasn't the main attraction for her, no. The coup de grace for Nick was that he had the longest tongue she'd ever… encountered. Very skilled tongue. Even now, thinking about his tongue made her insides clench. They'd hooked up a couple years ago in the Quad when everyone else was asleep. Max had to bite his hand very hard to keep from screaming out in ecstasy and waking everyone up.

And now, she wanted to see if that smart aleck had better talents than Nick; because Nick wasn't even a 'Nova, he was a regular IT unit. She shuddered to think what Alec might be able to do with those luscious lips, that twisting tongue, that skillful mouth.

So it was with great disappointment when she climbed into the SUV that would take them to the gala, that she discovered he'd had no reaction at all. He'd looked at her dress, her upper half (she thought) on brilliant display, and asked, "Do you have your cover and credentials memorized?" instead of ordering everyone out of the SUV, and Max to take off her panties immediately.

Whereas Max, on the other hand, had taken one long look at her gorgeous handler in a tuxedo tailored especially for his lean but muscled body, and had to squeeze her thighs together to abate the growing need and pulse between them.

She guessed she was wrong about the dress. "Uh, yeah. Eva Maria Diaz, 24, from California if anyone asks. How long has it been since they've seen you?"

Alec pulled gently at the neck of his bowtie as the SUV revved to live and began the drive offsite.  
"About a year. They probably think I'm out of the game, but I was just on a solo that turned out to be a little longer than expected."

Curiosity peaked and she wanted to ask him where he'd been and what the mission was, but typically, the solos were confidential. She deduced it was someplace warm with great sun exposure, judging by all the skin she'd seen to date. Or maybe, the mission had required him to be topless or nude most of the time. Sometimes, 'Nova missions were like that. But what could have caused a Manticore-bred accelerator to have a mission that was 'longer than expected'? What happened that forced him to be there longer? Had he still achieved mission success?

Absentmindely, she wondered if he liked his missions. She thought he must be good at what he did – he made CO after all, and his marks were off-the-charts good. Off-the-charts good 'Nova, she mused, and felt the heat of a blush rushing up to her face. She cleared her throat. "So, who is Eva Maria Diaz to Mr. Edward Bruneau?"

He turned his hazel stare back to her, shifted his eyes down to her lips for a moment, and asked, "you mean, like, are you my girlfriend, or colleague or…?"

She nodded. "Am I your plus one date or have we… known each other a while?"

He shook his head this time and looked away.

Was he upset about something? She couldn't figure out his behavior. Did he think Manticore picked the wrong female agent for this mission?

"Um, we've been dating since I've been away," he supplied.

"Over a year?"

"Yeah," he said, meeting her imploring eyes. "You gonna be okay with that?"

Her blood rushed through her body angrily and excitedly. He didn't think she could act the part? Maybe he should be worried about acting the part, himself. She could pretend just fine. She did six months with Cale, whom she really didn't even like; she could do a night with the insufferably attractive Alec. "Um, yeah, I can manage."

"Good."

"Good."

When they arrived, Alec offered her his elbow and escorted her into the extravagant hall. Draped in expensive ivory laces and clear crystals, the room echoed Cale's penthouse bedroom in its excess, except his bedroom didn't have an extensive glass bar, marbled sunken floor, and bout twenty-five servers attending to the various tables scattered at the edges of the giant room.

An older man with hanging neck skin and only dark eyebrow hair to speak of recognized Alec right away, and brought who Max assumed was his daughter their way. She looked maybe Italian, dark hair, olive skin, big boobs. "Edward, is that you?"

Alec placed a warm hand over Max's and gave a gentle squeeze before addressing the man. "Congressman Eilers, nice to see you again." He shook the man's hand, then turned his charming smile to the woman with him. "Colleen," he greeted, kissing her hand.

"And who's your friend?" Colleen asked.

Max noticed her large diamond ring on her ring finger while Colleen lazily stroked the Congressman's shiny bald head, which meant… _ew_. _She married this old man?_ She couldn't have been much older than Max, herself. Maybe twenty-six. _Gross._

Alec looked back to her with an expression encouraging her to go with it. "This is Eva."

"His girlfriend," Max said, plastering on a wide smile.

"My, you are a lucky woman," Colleen offered, shooting a lusty and forlorn look to Alec. "How long have you been together? Last time we saw you, you were as single as the day was long."

Was it just her imagination, or did Colleen the Congressman's wife just shoot a hard stare down Alec's body? Max gritted her teeth. Even though he wasn't really hers, he was hers to these people, hers for the night, and she didn't want Colleen or anyone else giving him too-appreciative a stare. She felt guilty for it, because it wasn't like she had a right to him, right?

Like he'd done this a million times, Alec seemed to take it in stride, grinning at Colleen and putting a hand on the small of Max's back. "I'm the lucky one to have this gorgeous woman on my arm. We started dating last year." He looked into Max's eyes and she thought she could see genuine warmth. "She's amazing. So smart, talented and beautiful. I'll be extra lucky if she lets me hang onto her." He smiled again and Max blushed for the thirtieth time tonight.

 _Yeah, definitely a 'Nova._

"Aw, Eddie, you're so sweet," Max said. If she hadn't have known any better, she would have believed him. She also had the sneaking suspicion he'd obtained information from the Congressman's wife using his particular set of skills. "I need to go powder my nose, excuse me," she said. _Or else I'm gonna be sick all over these people._

Alec leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek.

She felt his hand linger and trace her elbow as she walked out of reach. Now that Alec was 'on' and occupied, she could get this mission completed. She headed toward the stairs leading up to the second story of the grand ballroom, where she could better hide getting on an elevator.


	9. Chapter 9

3 months ago (4 months into the Cale mission)

Cale beeped Max every day after their first two encounters. She hadn't realized how needy the cyber journalist turned cyberterrorist would become after being intimate with her, especially considering how awkward those nights were for Max mentally, trying to figure out the timing of her crafted moans and fake orgasms. A man like Cale had to feel throughout his body that he was a sexual god. He had to feel like he always, graciously, gave the woman her pleasure before accepting his. Thank the Blue Lady for Kegels.

She guessed that meant she was successfully creating some kind of codependency, if he was contacting her for both his business and physical needs. She didn't have to like it, she just had to make sure he thought she did. If asked, he better damn well say he loved it.

Manticore's orders were to make sure she tired him out enough to make him want to sleep. And once he was spent, lying in his plush bed with some-godly-number-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, she could hack his informant net and copy pertinent files to a thumb drive to pass off to Zack the next day at one of thirteen drops around the city.

He'd asked her to a ball, once, and promised her a night of beauty and romance. Though she thought it might have been a romantic gesture at first, and she had enlisted the help of Original Cindy to find the right dress to wear to it, turned out the prick just wanted to use her skills to break into the offices upstairs from the event. He dressed in the tuxedo and schmoozed with all the boring walking dicks downstairs while she shimmied up the drainpipe in her cat burglar suit – the basic antithesis of an evening gown – stealthily slipping into the personal office and then personal wall safe of Mr. Jedidiah Harrison, whom Cale had discovered had been involved in human trafficking.

She'd heard the guard outside of the office and his heavy, weighted steps as he approached the office. There was no place for her to hide – there were no closets, no separate rooms, and no bookcases or curtains. Nothing for her to climb on top of and wait, and Harrison's desk was made of glass – she couldn't hide under it. She had to think fast.

The guard, a forty-something man with a receding hairline and coffee stains on his teeth opened the office and nearly dropped his caramel macchiato when he discovered Max, sitting atop Harrison's desk, completely nude, both hands posted behind her propping her up, one leg bent and the other straight out, creating a seductive, sultry pose. He'd flushed immediately, and as Max played the embarrassment card, covering her breasts and crossing her legs, she concocted a quick story about how she had been expecting Mr. Harrison, and wasn't she so naïve to think he loved her, when all he really wanted was to use this body. The whole time she spoke, the guard did the gentlemanly thing and turned to allow her to get dressed, and she was able to get her pants and bra on before hurrying from the room with her shirt and shoes in a jumble against her chest, the evidence safely contained somewhere in that mess.

She'd effectively stolen the evidence Cale would later use for his hack, and when she copied the information and handed it off to Zack, they'd both been informed by Lydecker that Harrison had been framed. He was a high profile target due to his influence in the genetics game, which meant Cale had probably lied to Max, since Zack's team had found evidence of the falsified evidence with Cale's signature all over it.

But sadly, she'd found out about the false information too late. Eyes Only had already done the hack, and Harrison had been found murdered by a rival human trafficker. It was fucked up, and she could do nothing to right the situation.

Upon hearing the news that Harrison had been murdered, Cale had been ecstatic, and felt like celebrating the apparent success of his mission with the pasta and wine combination he'd quickly establish as a precursor to his sexual reward – a night with Max. After he'd played the news clip, showing the caution tape of the scene, he'd taken her by the hand and thanked her for her work at the ball, and pulled her into his bedroom.

The candles had already been lit, the bedspread had been turned down, and with a quick press of a button, the sexy jazz music wafted into the room via whole house speakers. One look down to his crotch revealed his protruding erection.

 _Seriously? He's hard because of this?_

Max pasted a sultry smile on her face and prayed to the powers that be for this to be quick.

Cale had pulled her to him, ghosting his hand over hers over his heart, and began swaying side to side in a slow dance.

She toyed with the idea of dirty talk to hurry this thing along, but she didn't want to risk mission failure by tearing off their clothes and getting too aggressive. Patience had to be the name of this game. _Dammit_. She'd settled for, "I can't wait to have you inside of me," which she could see had sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through his body.

While he had eventually divested them both of their clothes and spent for-fucking-ever on foreplay, Max retreated to a place in her mind filled with the rough need of Pete's hands, his fingertips, his searching tongue and pulsing cock. If Cale couldn't bring her the wetness she needed in order to obtain mission parameters, she'd have to find a way to create it herself.

When Cale's fingers finally found their way down to her slick slit, Max reached for the nightstand drawer which held the condoms and paced the remaining four minutes until his climax.

When he was done, sweaty and sated, he excused himself to the bathroom and Max pulled her clothes back on. She hadn't stayed the night yet, nor would she have felt comfortable staying the night this night. She schooled her features and readied herself for the inevitable conversation ahead, where he asked if she would stay the night, and she politely declined. At least in the beginning, she needed to have him wanting more.

As soon as she knew he'd fallen asleep, she returned to the penthouse, quietly hacked his informant net, copied the files to the drive, and slipped out silently.

Just outside of Jam Pony, she met up with Zack.

 _Did you get it?_ he'd asked, just like he had every other time she'd obtained new evidence.

 _Of course,_ she'd replied.

Zack noted her aggressive tone, her general frustrated nature. If he thought she hadn't been sexually satisfied, he had never asked. Come to think of it, he had never asked how she felt at all. Dick.


	10. Chapter 10

Now

She spent the twelve story ride up thinking about Alec's confusing behavior. Sometimes, when he looked at her, there was something in his eyes, something she couldn't place, and other times, it was like he couldn't stand her presence. Maybe she just wasn't his speed and he was at odds with Max the person versus Max the successful agent.

The doors opened to floor fourteen and she made her way to room 1423, the room in which she'd find the hard drive. It was an easy lock pick, and once she figured out the combination to the safe, she nabbed the drive and put everything back in original order before stowing the drive at their rendezvous point – their hotel room on the tenth floor, room 1016. She just had to find Alec now. The fact that he wasn't already there worried her.

She found her way back to the main floor and spotted him from a distance, speaking animatedly with several people, some of them players and some of them adoring women. His easy smile with them made her heart beat faster in her chest.

 _Geez, Max, get a grip. Once this mission is over, I'll find Pete and scratch this thing._

Just then, Alec spotted her in the crowd, his mouth still moving as he finished his sentence. For that brief moment, she thought she saw that flash of something, but then his tongue folded back into his mouth, and his lips formed a small frown and he looked away, just as he had before in the SUV.

 _Okay,_ she thought. _Dick, but fine._ She could deal with his apparent disdain for her.

She moved through the throngs of dancers, face hot with anger. At minimum, she had completed the mission objective. She only wanted to let him know she'd completed what he'd asked, and if he never wanted to see her again, he could just be a memory of her time away from this Cale mission. Except shit, she had to work with him on this Cale mission. He was an accelerator, whatever the hell that meant.

Finally, within range of his transgenic hearing, Max said in a whisper, "We have the drive."

"Save me," he whispered back, covering his mouth as if coughing politely.

Her brows creased a split second and she came up next to him.

"Hey," he greeted, as if surprised to see her. He bent slightly sideways to kiss her neck just below her ear, a kiss that sent shivers throughout her whole body. "They're all chomping at the bit – dance with me. Save me."

He pulled back from her and smiled politely at four women, equally seeming to undress him with their eyes.

"Come on, babe," she said, wrapping her hand around his bicep and pulling him toward the sunken marble floor. _Goddamn, this crush. Maybe he would consider just hooking up and then maybe the Director would assign me a new handler._

He pulled her close to him and they began dancing, swaying back and forth, side to side. He held her hand to his chest, above his heart, while his other hand circled around to her back, and hers rested on his shoulder.

"Thank you for getting the drive. I couldn't make it back to the rendezvous – I got stuck here while Colleen tried to feel me up in front of Eilers." He twirled her out, her gray dress shimmering with the soft, low lights.

"No problem. Did you…" she wasn't sure how to ask, but she swallowed her embarrassment and pushed the question out. "Was Colleen one of your missions?"

If the question caught him off guard, she wouldn't have known. He just smiled that lopsided smirk and pulled her hand to his mouth for a soft knuckle kiss. "No. But she has been trying to seduce me basically every chance she's had. She didn't marry the Congressman for his dick."

Max actually laughed out loud. She liked this more brazen, candid, honest Alec; liked him way more than the guarded 'handler' Alec he'd been most of the night. "You mean those aren't her actual tits? I'm shocked," she deadpanned.

Shrugging off the validity of Colleen's breasts, Alec said, "Manticore doesn't think she knows anything – either the Congressman's too careful, or she's got an IQ to match her bra size." Alec swirled them both around the floor, his body pressed against hers. "And anyway, I'm not available." He pierced her with his gaze, the shine of mischief gleaming.

"What do you mean?" Her brows knit together, confused.

"Go with it," Alec said, letting go of the hand that was over his heart. He dipped her suddenly, sliding his warm hand up her exposed chest and around to her ear. He pulled her earring off and set Max on her feet, but stayed kneeling on one knee.

Max's eyes opened with surprise.

"Eva Maria Diaz," he started loudly, holding the earring with the diamond up, clasp side hidden in his closed palm. Many of the other dancing couples stopped mid-stride, creating a circle around them. "Will you make me the happiest man on this Earth and marry me?"

Max looked into his eyes, the sincerity behind them shining through. Was he just really good at faking it? Regardless, she had to do something to get them off this dance floor and back into their hotel room. If she said yes, though, she'd be tied to this cover ID with him for the rest of its time. If she said no, she'd have to come to terms with the idea that her career with Manticore may end here, on this night; never an opportunity to promote. A recommendation from Alec would certainly go a long way.

Or maybe, just maybe, this was his way of creating a possibility to have that one night hook-up with her.

Max thought about it for only two more seconds, because either way, she was game for this. She broke into a huge smile. "Yes! Oh my god, Eddie, yes!"


	11. Chapter 11

Now

He slipped her earring onto her finger – and of course the hoop of the earring fit perfectly around it. She could feel the clip rubbing between her middle and ring finger, but hid the discomfort by pulling Alec up onto his feet and bringing her lips to his.

Contrary to what she thought most people might do – dive face first into a messy, aggressive kiss – she gently stroked his face toward hers and planted a soft kiss on his lips. The air between them changed, and she discovered in mere moments that he liked her particular brand of lip lock, if the way he growled lightly into her mouth was any indication. And his eyes – the gleam of something more primal sizzling there like crystallizing nectar from a honeycomb. It was certainly heating her up. It felt like there was an invisible cord between them, pulling them toward one another. She opened up to his caressing lips and allowed his tongue passage, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his hard, lean form.

All around them, they could hear the cheers of couples clapping, realizing they had been a part of this romantic night. But Max couldn't think about any of that, not with Alec's soft lips pressed against hers, not with his tongue delving expertly into her mouth and exploring it with a fervor. _Oh, god,_ she thought. She wasn't sure if she was lamenting the fact that he was an expert at this, or just plain enjoying it. No, more than enjoying it – freakin' living inside of it.

When they finally came apart, in a quick second, he seemed to come back to himself, his creamy caramel stare dissolving into just regular shine, and he smiled his over-the-top smile. He took her hand and turned her toward the crowd, his face splitting even further in prepared elation.

Congratulations abounded as he led her to the elevators. They stayed relatively quiet on the way up to their floor, save for their insatiable making out in front of an elderly couple who'd noticed the ring and remarked on young love, and despite how many times he checked out her swollen-from-each-kiss lips, Max tried not to put too much stock into it. He was good at playing the part.

When they finally reached their room, he disengaged from her and went straight to the safe where she'd placed the hard drive, shrugging off his coat on the way and leaving her to shut the door. She made her way into the bedroom where the wall safe was stashed and waited for his instruction.

"Sorry about that," he started, pulling the drive from the contained safety of the wall and hooking it up to his laptop. He pulled at his bowtie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt.

 _Well I'm not,_ she thought, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. She feigned ignorance to his statement. "About what?"

He did not look at her as he began decrypting the hard drive. "About that whole scene. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Just thought we needed to get back up here."

"So naturally, you thought the best way to do that is to propose publically?" Max sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes. She wasn't sure whether or not this line of questioning or sarcasm would result in insubordination, but she was willing to test the waters.

With his face illuminated by the computer screen, she couldn't help but compare his inattention to what Cale paid her while he was absorbed in one of his crusades. It was frustrating to say the least.

He typed away, apparently multitasking. "You did very well, and I think you would make a great addition to this cover," he said, again, not looking at her as he spoke. He seemed to have found something on the drive, and as he executed the program, he finally stood up and looked at her. "Would you continue to be a part of my cover?"

Without her heels on, she felt even shorter, but the way he talked to her made her feel tall, and she rose to her feet to meet his compliment. He thought she was a good agent; he thought she played the part so well that he wanted her to continue playing the role. It meant future missions as Edward Bruneau's (probably) wife, with the added potential benefit of more PDA. She almost smiled, because it felt like he had just asked her for her hand in marriage for the second time tonight. "Yes."

Noticeably relieved, he exhaled and smiled. He watched her eyes for a moment as she looked away shyly. His smile fell and his lips parted as if ready to say something else.

She walked over to him and turned, sweeping her hair over her collarbone. "Do you mind?"

The dress zipped up in the back and had a hook closure, so as soon as she bared her neck and back to him, she figured he'd get the hint. But when all she felt was the air conditioning lightly breezing against her shoulder blades, she peeked over her shoulder and caught the transfixed look in his eyes.

He stared at her back, fingers twitching toward her dress. His face was serious, a hard stare with no eye contact, clenched jaw, and she felt the heat from his fingertips when he dragged his fingertips along the middle of her back, gently pushing an errant section of hair she'd missed over her shoulder.

She turned back to hide her disappointment that he didn't seem pleased and her embarrassment that she was blushing just from a brush of his fingertips, and Alec he tucked those fingertips under the hem of the dress and pinched the hook out of its closure. He held one side of the dress with his right hand and slid the zipper down agonizingly slow with his left.

The back sides of the dress folded down a bit, revealing her black strapless bra, and she thought she heard him take a sharp breath. He turned on his heel and went back to his laptop.

"Thanks." She made her way to the bathroom, grabbing her bag on the way, and swung the door so it was almost shut.

 _What is with him?_ She couldn't help but feel confused. Usually she was pretty adept at reading people, even Manticore soldiers, but this one was an enigma. One second he touched her like she was the softest, most exotic, rare element on this planet, and the next, his face was the epitome of a stone cold sculpture, emotionless save for whatever emotion he was feeling when the sculptor captured him.

She looked at herself in the mirror, letting the dress fall. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated with obvious desire. She was suddenly glad she had turned around to hide her expression from him. What would he do if he found out she was harboring a bit of a crush on her handler? What would the Director do?

Her eyes fell to her satin bra and underwear, and she remembered how he'd kissed her. So hungry. Passionate. Like his body had taken over, consuming her, lighting a fire throughout her body. Was this how he obtained the information he wanted? Was this how he achieved mission success? Was this why he was the best of the best?

She followed her own curves in the mirror's reflection, wondering if Alec would ever look at her the same way. He could start at the curve of her waist, let his eyes rake over the swell of her breasts, lick up past her collarbone and spread up the slope of her neck. Fuck, she was getting hot. She let those thoughts invade her mind until she was staring at her own eyes in the mirror, imagining what he could do with his mouth.

She twisted her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, bringing her hands around and up to her breasts. She dragged the bra down gently, revealing her dusky, rosy areolas, pencil-eraser hard from her fantasizing, and seeing the effects of those fantasies struck her with lust. Her fingertips picked at her nipples, kept moving down her abdomen until they dipped into the fabric of her panties. That's when she heard Alec.

"I asked you to make her disappear into the crowd, into the background," he said authoritatively, but maybe a little louder than he'd intended.

She pulled her fingers from her panties, covered her chest, and turned, realizing she had left the door open a bit and that he probably thought she couldn't hear him. She eavesdropped from behind the door.

"I specifically asked you to make her invisible, and clearly, you can't follow one simple order. You put her in a shiny silver dress that basically screamed 'I'm a government asset, everyone, look at me!' No one could take their eyes off her all night." He paused, and she thought she'd been caught listening, but whoever was on the other line must have been attempting an excuse, because he started up again, continuing his tirade. "I don't give a fuck. It's a wonder she completed the mission unnoticed at all. Your incompetence could have undermined this op. Consider this your one and only warning."

Quickly, Max pushed the door shut as quietly as she could and stared into her own beaming brown eyes in the mirror. On the one hand, he kind of insinuated that she was barely able to complete her mission, and it was because of wardrobe's mistake.

On the other hand, he'd admitted he couldn't take his eyes off her all night.


	12. Chapter 12

Now

Max could hardly wait to get back to base so she could talk to Brandy about her gorgeous CO's creative and eager tongue and the way her legs twitched to jump up around his hips in the elevator. Of course, to her own dismay, Alec hadn't dressed down to just boxers or taken one long look at her in her zipped down dress and hungrily licked the curves of her body.

"Max, have you told him yet how badly you want him to be your next mission?" she'd asked, watching the way Max's lips stuttered to come up with something to say.

"No, of course not. Fraternizing is-"

Brandy cut her off. "Fun. Fraternizing is fun, Max. Haven't you ever…" she trailed.

She remembered Pete's dick filling her up, rubbing her from the inside, and blushed. She remembered Nick's amazing tongue, slipping against her inner walls, and blushed harder. "Yeah, I've-"

Brandy reached out and grabbed Max's hand. "Then why don't you hook up with someone? Pick a fuckin' 'Nova, an endurance model, a ripped guy-"

She pursed her lips, those images quickly transforming into Alec's dick, Alec's tongue. He was an endurance model, right? She felt the rush of arousal.

"-And satiate yourself," Brandy finished, watching the hooded look in Max's eyes slowly eclipse her standard awareness. "Girl, you got this bad, huh?"

"He even asked me to marry him," Max said, looking to her friend. "I mean, my cover to marry his cover. He wants me to keep up this cover with him."

Brandy's smile turned lascivious. "And you didn't consummate this union?"

"Wow, when you say it like that," Max deadpanned. Sounded like a contract, which was pretty much the exact opposite of what she wanted. The consummation, that is, not the marriage. She wasn't naïve enough to want the security of the ring, the Mating bite. Except she did feel the flutter of panicked desperation wash over her at the thought of his mouth closing around the sensitive skin of her neck. She groaned.

"Christ, Max," Brandy remarked, watching the torture cross her friend's mind. "You better do something about this crush, 'cause if you don't, your own sexual tension is going to ruin your career."

Max looked to her curly-haired friend with helplessness. "I can't do anything about it tonight. He's on an overnight mission. I saw him packing condoms earlier, and he just shrugged it off nonchalantly."

Brandy's light brown eyebrows shot up a little. "Well, if he's a 'Nova, you've got to expect that sort of thing. He's going to have to fuck people. And so are you."

She hadn't really thought about that until now. Alec was going to go on missions where he had to be… intimate… with other women, and, likely, she would have to be intimate with other men, probably while he was instructing her on what to do. Would it be awkward? Would it be hot? She frowned, staring off into space at the idea of him burying himself in some undeserving mark.

Silence fell between them for a moment, until Brandy spoke up again. "I was cleared for a mission – I'm kinda jazzed about it – I've been back here too long. I think they're sending me to a fetish club or something, so there's all kinds of likelihood I'll have a shot at some deuce-chucking action." She raised her 'peace sign' to her lips and tongued at the vee her fingers made.

Max laughed at Brandy's raunchy gestures. "It's been a little too long, huh?"

Brandy laughed in response and cast sad eyes down, undoubtedly remembering why her last mission ended so abruptly. "That it has. Well, the way I see it, I got one life, and I plan to fuckin' live it."

Hard to argue with that logic. "Do I say 'break a leg'?"

Brandy gave her friend a quick hug and excused herself to infirmary. Standard shots and whatnot. She'd leave in a few hours. Luckily, having been cleared for a mission meant the return of something normal for Brandy.

Max, on the other hand, walked the halls of Manticore, passing others without so much as a glance up. She may as well have been alone.

* * *

3 Months Ago (4 months into the Cale Mission)

Max rounded the corner at Jam Pony and nearly ran face first into the hard, sculpted chest of the new guy, Justin. He was a clean cut blonde with a side part and gentle fade, and tattoos covered most of his – God, were those his arms? She bit her lower lip and felt the whole room heat up as she looked up to his tall frame.

"Oh, sorry, Max. I didn't see you there," he'd said. He was a nice guy with an addiction to working out, and as Max twitched to go around him to the left, he shifted to his right, accidentally blocking her path. He laughed, and his voice was so sweet, and his frame was big, and his smile was so goddamn genuine that she almost purred.

 _Oh shit,_ she'd realized. She'd been out here a bit too long, because her suppression medication had undoubtedly worn off. She needed to go in for a booster, and like, soon, because she could tell by the way she sized up the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger that she was going into heat.

She'd then shifted to her right to go around him the other direction, and he'd also sailed to his left. He chuckled deeply. "Wanna dance?" he'd asked, reaching out both hands to still her arms and hold her in place.

She closed her eyes at his gentle touch.

Next thing she realized, she'd thrown Justin up against the wall of Jam Pony's supply closet and covered his mouth with hers, splaying her fingers up his corded arms filled with tattoos of suns and a hibiscus flower and a shadowed surfer curling around the crush of a wave. She tore at his clothes, pulling apart the buttons of his shirt and working at his belt in a near blur. She needed him. She needed this man and his – _Christ, is that his real dick?_

She grabbed his shaft and pumped him a few times, feeling the tip of his dick moisten with pre-cum. She shook off her own shirt and shimmied quickly out of her pants before attaching her mouth to his, her tongue delving into his mouth. He tasted like a little bit of cloves, a bit of orange, and as he caught her naked ass and turned so she was up against the wall, her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the pleasure. He bounced Max against his pelvis until she bit his bottom lip and drew blood, trying to avoid screaming in her madness.

With the exception of his sandy blonde hair, this guy was nothing like Cale, and she wondered absentmindedly why her first instinct when going into heat wasn't to rush into Cale's arms, Cale's bed, impale herself on Cale's dick. Instead, she'd had a passionate quickie with a coworker in the fucking _janitor's_ closet. At work. During working hours.

Two days later, at Cale's questioning, she'd told him about Heat, and what it did to her, and what a mindless person she became while under the influence of one of her predominant DNA strands. He'd been disappointed, but hadn't pushed her for sex for at least a week while he grumbled about how evil Manticore really was, and what a victim they'd made her.

She'd smiled for a week.

Zack had frowned for a week.

Cale had forgiven her.


	13. Chapter 13

Now

Max made her way through the dimly lit halls to the outside training area, blending into the shadows in what she'd once called her 'Ninja Outfit,' black pants and a black sweater that zipped up in back. Sometimes, she just needed some fresh air and the freedom of nighttime, uninterrupted by authority types and fellow soldiers. Manticore didn't have strict rules about its campus, per se, so only a few of her comrades wandered at night, kept up by the shark in their DNA or the pressing need to shake off the pressures of compartmentalizing some of the traumatic things they'd seen or done, or things that had been done to them.

The cobalt blue nighttime sky, brushed with soft clouds – some white as snow, some soft and pink like cotton candy – calmed the blood in her veins, slowed down the rush of angry thoughts and onslaught of anxiety, and allowed her to breathe. Most nights, things were still. Even when it rained, things were still. It was as if her surroundings existed outside of time, and for a short while, she could exist outside of time, too.

Yes, she had shark in her cocktail, but if she'd been honest with herself, she was awake, sneaking around Manticore's campus alone, seeking to assuage the feeling that Alec was out there on his 'Nova mission somewhere, probably expertly banging the information right out of some unsuspecting mark. Jealously ran rampant through her body, forking at each joint, trying to beat an efficient path to thoroughly consume her.

She could almost see it. The way his dick pushed into some no-name woman unrelentingly like the Seattle rain, punishingly, like the harder he went at her, the sooner she'd give up the information he needed. The way he'd grip her wrists, painfully and vicelike, intimating exactly what she probably didn't even know she needed, pressing those beautiful lips against some other woman's, some woman who wouldn't know how to appreciate them.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Max,_ she thought. _He's your handler._

* * *

6 Years Ago

Mess bustled with the noise of two hundred teens, finishing up what they could of their meals before half of them would head to the class where they'd learn the results from the Manticore Armed Services Vocational Aptitude and Battery (MASVAB). These results would determine which course each soldier would take in creating and building their service career and reaching their full potential. Some would train to become Romeos (aka 'Novas), some would train for corporate espionage, some as assassins; some would become a hyped-up Manticore version of a desk jockey, sifting through files and determining threats, creating reports, while others would excel in coercion, get pulled into Psy-Ops, recruit into profiling and case working. The classifications were plenty.

452 dumped her trash and looked back to her unit mates. A few of them took the MASVAB last year and were already a full year into their training. 599 was already setting up for a high ranking officer. 543 started training for her journalism cover. 811 began his studies and strategizing for entering into the political climate.

Excitement filled the air around her. She felt the gravity of being on this precipice. Like the old saying, today was about to become the first day of the rest of her life. She smiled to her friends and made her way to the classroom.

As the instructor spoke about what the placements would mean for the lecture hall full of teens, Max felt a surge of energy, imagining the types of adventures she might go on, and how she would help ensure the safety of her country. She was true blue, and she felt ready for the next step.

She accepted her letter and took a deep breath. She opened her letter, signed by the Director himself, and studied the verbiage. A small smile spread on her face, and she looked around the room to her peers, each letting the moment wash over them. She recognized the dark-skinned X5-843 as he high-fived a sandy-blonde haired teen sitting next to him, jazzed to start his training for the Romeo program. She admired 843 – he had a decent build, she'd heard him spin arguments in class that charmed people into agreement, and he had the sweetest dimples on a sculpted jaw, and the softest deep brown eyes. Manticore would have him weightlifting and cross training to turn him from sculpted jaw into sculpted everything. She felt the creeping blush heat up her cheeks, but couldn't look away.

"I think you've got your first mission right there," the blonde said to 843, slapping his shoulder and pointing directly at 452.

843 cast those chocolatey eyes right on her, and gave her a smile. He kept his eyes on hers, but said to his friend, knowing full well she could hear him, "In a couple years."

It was a statement that embarrassed the hell out of her. He hadn't outright said 'no,' more like he'd said 'not yet.' But the fact that her thoughts had been so transparent bothered her. And the fact that 843's friend called her out on it irritated her further. She tore her eyes from 843 to glare at the jovial, hazel eyes of his friend.

She'd seen him around. 494. Lanky, mid-teen, close-cropped hair like most of her peers. Her eyes found the depth of that warmth in eyes that shimmered golden and green, the dusting of boyish freckles across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and the bow shape of his lips, and she felt that familiar blush once again. And if she wasn't embarrassed enough already, 494 saw it. He winked at her and smirked. She hated that he was attractive, and hated that he seemed to know it, too.

"And where exactly were you placed?" 452 began, challenging 494. "Torture chamber? Prisoner Interrogation? Annoying the hell out of POWs until they tell you state secrets? 'Cause you're doing a bang-up job training for that."

843 laughed, but 494's honeyed eyes flashed with excitement as he sat forward in his seat. "Let me guess," he said, licking his lips in thought.

She wished he hadn't done that, because she caught the combination of his lip and tongue, and he saw her trace his tongue's movement. His eyes twinkled in recognition and she blushed in embarrassment even further.

He opened his mouth again. "Base Operations. Oh! Counter Intelligence Office, Threat Assessment."

He'd named two classifications for basic office work, not field work. She felt the fiery anger burning up through her veins. How dare he insinuate she couldn't cut it in the field.

"Let me guess," she parroted back to him, standing and taking a step toward the seated duo. "Janitorial. Oh! Mess Hall. Something requiring a hair net."

He laughed out loud and turned his attention to the front of the lecture hall for a moment.

452 had the distinct feeling 494 actually liked sparring verbally, that he'd been impressed with her insult.

"Oh, is that where I'll be?" 494 stood up, stepped into the aisle and towered over her. "Training you?" He smirked, enjoying the way her skin seemed to flush from his words alone. He liked flustering her. He stared into her triumphantly.

Drawing attention to the fact that these two seemed to be in a battle of wills in the middle of their classroom, 843 cleared his throat. "So where were you placed, 452?"

Three transgenic pairs of eyes shot straight to the letter in 452's hand, and before she could make a move, 494 snatched it out of her hand and opened it. 452 tried to grab the paper back, but he held it too far away, his arm span longer than hers. She resigned to her defeat and crossed her arms.

The color drained from 494's face a moment and she saw a twinge of a blush blossom from under his freckles. "Well, seems young 452 here received the max score in Romeo," he informed 843.

The dark-skinned soldier stood up next to his friend. "Max score for a woman?" He grabbed the letter and read it as the blonde continued.

494's mouth moved as if caressing the information proudly, his eyes meeting hers in another standoff. "She aced it. Youngest Romeo ever entered into the program. Max score, ever."

It was at that moment 452 picked her name. It described her.

The longer his stare, the more she felt as if he was impressed by her. Impressed, that is, until he looked down her body, eyes roaming openly over her still-developing breasts and quasi-curvy, petite frame. "Looks like you got some work to do, though."

452, Max, nearly growled. This guy was infuriating. She noticed his letter folded in the side pocket of his cargos and lunged for it, but he was too quick, sliding it out of his pocket and stretching his arm high above his head. "Uh-uh," he teased. "Unless you're a climber, you'll never know what this letter says."

She knew her pupils had dilated. She was only fifteen, but she'd already been through heat several times. And by the way his smile crooked up on one side, she could tell he'd been around another female soldier during her heat, too. It was like he had some secret insight that she found him attractive, and it tickled him immensely. " _Are_ you a climber?" He couldn't resist.

"Such a smart-aleck, huh? Are you even smart enough to place Romeo?"

843 slapped the flat of his palm against 494's chest. "Come on, man," he tried to pull his friend away from this young woman whom seemed to rile him up easily, and whom was just as easily baited to rise to the occasion.

Undeterred, 494 smiled excitedly and said to the dark haired girl, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."


	14. Chapter 14

Now

Fresh off the memory of remembering Alec's arrogant self-introduction, Max smiled. Yes, it was true that she had named him, sort of. And he'd named her, too, sort of. Was it because she liked the way his lips came together, and the way his tongue hid behind his toothy smirk when he said 'Max' that made her choose that name? The idea that she was rolling around in his mouth? She couldn't say for sure, but she reveled in the fact that it took his whole mouth to say it. She really liked his mouth. He'd promised there were other things his mouth could do, and god, did she want to find out. Hard to imagine something better than that kiss.

She was so caught up in thinking about her handler's perfect lips that she turned the corner by the library and ran straight into a warm plane of hard muscle. Her head bounced back at the contact and a smile sprung up on her face as she realized she ran face first into a strong male chest. "Sorry, I-"

Beautiful dark skin reached out to steady her, and she cast her sight up to see it was Pete's large hands ensuring she stayed upright. For a millisecond, she remembered those relentless fingers, playing their way into her, chasing that oblivion, and then his baritone voice seeped into her reverie and brought her back to the present. "Max," he said in surprised… was that embarrassment? "Hey," he breathed out. He let his hands drag down to her fingertips before letting go. "Wow, how've you been?"

A wide smile split her face and she colored, replaying the memory of her time with him in the – she interrupted her own thought to look at the door from which Pete had just exited. The library. She met his eyes as he realized what she'd realized a split second prior. She couldn't see his blush, but she could feel the heat from it.

She could also tell by the way his eyes danced over her lips, her slender neck, the roundness of her breasts, that she still inspired desire in a man. _Just not Alec,_ her mind supplied unhelpfully. Pete's eyes clung to her every curve a moment longer before he laughed somewhat nervously. She shrugged coyly.

If Alec was off fucking some stranger for information and it meant nothing, then she could scratch an itch and it could mean nothing, right? At least if she could abate this need for a sexual release at the skilled hands (or mouth or dick) of Pete, maybe she wouldn't be so focused on Alec. Maybe Brandy was right. Maybe fraternizing could be fun.

Max tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, mind made up. "Pretty good, Pete. How about you?" She could see he was still fit, maybe more fit than last time, since now his t-shirt seemed to be overstretched by his pecs. Maybe his last mission required personal training. He exuded confidence, and sheer animalism radiating from him.

"Real good, Max," he said, his eyes darkening further. His voice was shaky. He took a deep breath.

She guessed it was an answer to her question, as well as an appraisal. Her review of him was ongoing. His biceps bunched as he rubbed his palms together, nervous anticipation sparking as he snapped his head to the library's door, and Max gazed down toward the floor, her peripheral vision picking up the starting growth of an erection.

"Good," she managed. "So, uh, late night studying?" She glanced at the door.

He smiled then. His dimples danced around in her mind, calling her back to those times with Cale, when she had to imagine Pete in order to meet mission requirements. But those dimples made her long for the sarcastic smirk she so missed from her handler. Now those were some delectable lips, and she considered minutely how badly she needed to chew on them. Or the bottom one, at least.

She was carried away by her fantasies of Alec. Again. She shuddered and caught Pete's dark pupils expanding.

"Yeah, I uh, got tied up in a project," he said, rocking back on his heels. He peeked at the library door again and resettled on Max. "What about you?"

"Seemed like a nice night," she started. "I – couldn't sleep." Her brow raised as she pinned Pete with a hard stare. "Did you need any help with that project?"

Before Pete could answer, the library door swung open and out walked a gorgeous Latina with olive skin and dark hair. Her face was red, skin flushed, and when she caught Pete and Max standing in the hallway, a quick bolt of hurt flashed in her brown eyes. She looked between them, slipping on a mask of nonchalance.

"Uh, hi," the woman said, reaching out a hand. "I'm, uh, Annabel."

Max nodded and shook her dainty hand with confidence. "I'm Max." She chanced a glare to Pete and saw a guilty, anxious shift in his eyes. She nodded resolutely, having put it together. "Nice to meet you, Annabel." She ticked her head at Pete in goodbye. "Pete."

As she made her way back to her barrack, she took a deep breath and shook her head. Really? She was about to have sex with Pete in the library, right after he'd just given the business end of his body to Annabel? Christ.


End file.
